


Conversation Hearts

by Ghost_in_the_Hella



Series: Holidays are Strange [9]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game), Life Is Strange: Before The Storm
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Teenage Feelings, Bisexual Female Character, Conversation Hearts, Dirty Jokes, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Sexual Humor, Undefined Relationship, Valentine's Day, amberprice, holiday fic, very sweary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29562945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_in_the_Hella/pseuds/Ghost_in_the_Hella
Summary: Rachel sets to the work of changing into dressy clothes - since when does she give a fuck about impressing random dudes, anyway? - and fixing her hair and makeup. Chloe lounges on Rachel’s floor and pretends to read conversation hearts to her. Anything to cover up the aching between her ribs. Anything to make Rachel laugh that beautiful laugh.“‘Your mom has the clap.’ Huh, that one sounds familiar… ‘Your tits are a gift from god.’ Wow, that’s surprisingly accurate. ‘You have been cursed with seven years bad sex.’ Oh, no, that doesn’t bode well for your date tonight. ‘Dat ass doe.’” Every stupid joke brings a brilliant laugh, and Chloe wonders if life could ever stay like this. Just making Rachel laugh forever and basking in the warm glow of it.---Amberprice Valentine's Day 2011.
Relationships: Rachel Amber & Chloe Price, Rachel Amber/Chloe Price
Series: Holidays are Strange [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1244693
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	Conversation Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Velmax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velmax/gifts).



> A sequel of sorts to Please Don't Be My Valentine, but you don't have to have read that one before reading this one.
> 
> CW for implied/referenced underage drinking, drug use, and sex. None of it is explicit or graphic at all.

Chloe is being an absolute pain in the ass and she isn’t even conscious. It would be sort of impressive if it weren’t also incredibly annoying.

Rachel pushes at Chloe’s shoulder again, trying to wriggle herself free from Chloe’s surprisingly heavy (seriously, Chloe’s a stick; how does she manage to weigh so much??) limbs so she can get out of bed and at least turn off her alarm. Chloe’s insensate mass is unmovable. The only response Rachel receives for her efforts is a grumbling snore in her ear.

Rachel worms one hand up enough to give Chloe a hard flick to the ear. Chloe makes a loud sound in protest and rolls over enough for Rachel to slide free, landing on the floor with cat-like grace. She turns off her phone alarm and sighs in relief. The quiet helps, but her head still throbs. Thank goodness it’s overcast outside so she doesn’t have horrible sunbeams prying her skull apart. Rachel raises a foot and gives Chloe a good shove with it. Chloe flings an arm across her eyes and moans. “Wake up, jerk,” Rachel says. “I’ve got to get ready for class and you’ve got to get out of here.”

Chloe mumbles something indistinct, but she sounds more awake than she did a moment ago. Rachel climbs back onto the bed, straddling her and jabbing at her with her pointer fingers. Chloe groggily swats at her hands and starts to squirm.

“Up! Up!” Rachel insists. 

“Fuggoff,” Chloe protests, grabbing Rachel’s pillow and clumsily swinging it at her assailant. Rachel deflects the blow easily. “Lemme sleeb. M’ still drungk.”

“Too bad, because you can’t stay in my room all day.” Rachel climbs off of Chloe and begins combing through her drawers for clothes that’ll look good with a minimum of effort.

“Whynodt?”

“Uh, because you’ll get caught and I’ll get in trouble? Plus your step-dipshit threatened to take your keys if you get busted for trespassing in the dorms again, remember?”

“C’n hotwire th’ truck in my sleeb. ‘Sides nob’dy hasta know’m here. I’ll be quiet lika mouse.”

Rachel laughs. “And what about when you have to go to the bathroom, huh? You’re going to turn invisible in the hallway?”

“I’ll piss’na cup.”

“Not in my room, you won’t!” Rachel grabs her pillow and starts pummeling Chloe with it.

“Owwww, _quiddit_!” Chloe struggles against Rachel’s feathery assault, life pouring back into her limbs as she does. Despite being massively hungover and still half-asleep, she manages to wrestle the pillow from Rachel’s grip. She seems to contemplate launching it across the room out of sheer spite, then changes her mind and snuggles back into bed with her arms locked around it. “Have fun in class, Rach. Don’ forget t’ take notes for me. Or, y’know, do. Forget.”

Rachel sighs and tugs at Chloe’s ankle. For someone so tired and hungover, Chloe’s surprisingly strong. She doesn’t budge an inch. “C’mon, you ass. You’re gonna make me hella late for class.”

“Iss Valentine’s Day. Isn’ that a national holiday or something? You should be cussing out your classes for making you late for cuddles, not givin’ me shit for making you late for classes.”

Rachel gives up on hauling her best friend bodily out of her bed and begins changing into her clothes for the day. She smirks when she catches Chloe peeking at her through half-closed lids, spoiling her ruse of pretending to be asleep.

“Since when are you so gung ho about Valentine’s Day? You literally spent the whole party last night complaining about what a pointless holiday it is.”

“That was then, this is now. Cuddles, Rach.”

“School, Chloe.” 

“School is for assholes.”

“Oh, so you’re coming to class, then!”

Chloe flips her the bird and Rachel laughs. “Fuck yourself, Amber,” Chloe mutters.

Rachel shrugs nonchalantly. “Okay. You gonna watch?” 

It’s sort of funny how easy it is to make Chloe squirm. They’ve hooked up more times than Rachel can count now, but every time Chloe acts afterward like she doesn’t realize that what they do together in the dark is _sex_. Or maybe like she doesn’t think that Rachel knows it, so she’s going to pretend she doesn’t either and hope that Rachel never catches on. It probably makes it easier for her to convince herself that it doesn’t mean anything about her. Like if she doesn’t realize it’s sex, then she can still believe she’s really straight.

It’s amusing but sort of annoying. Rachel wishes that Chloe weren’t so uptight about it all. It’s not like they’re dating or anything. What’s the big deal? Sex is sex. 

“Ha, ha,” Chloe croaks out at last, burying her face in Rachel’s pillow so that all Rachel can make out of her blush is the glowing red tips of her ears. “Cute. Have fun in class with the other losers. I’ll be sleeping in like the rest of the cool people.”

Rachel sighs and checks her reflection in the mirror one last time. “Okay, fine, whatever. You can sleep in, but make sure you sneak out before four. And don’t harass the other girls in the hall this time, alright?”

“Sorry, Rach, but some of those girls are just begging to be messed with.” Chloe lifts her head from the pillow with a troubled expression on her face. “Wait, why do I have to be out by four?”

“One, so you’re less likely to be caught sneaking out because most people will still be in class. And two, I have a date tonight.”

That finally gets Chloe’s lazy ass to sit up. “The fuck you do! Are you shitting me?”

“Um… No?”

“But… It’s Valentine’s Day!”

Rachel’s eyebrows slowly creep higher and higher on her forehead. “And? Lots of people have dates on Valentine’s Day, Chloe. It’s kind of a whole thing.”

“Well, yeah, but…” The wind goes out of Chloe’s sails all at once. She visibly deflates, suddenly small even on Rachel’s tiny dorm bed. “I don’t know. I kinda thought…” She shrugs defensively. “I kinda thought we’d spend the day together. Like we did last year, you know?” She shakes her head and flops back into Rachel’s bed. “Whatever. I’m an idiot, obviously.”

Rachel glances at the clock. She’s going to be late if she doesn’t hustle. She walks over to the bed with a sigh and plants a firm kiss on Chloe’s forehead even as Chloe pretends to struggle away. “Not an idiot,” she gently rebukes. “You just forgot to make reservations. It’s Valentine’s Day, Chloe. _Always_ make reservations.” She boops Chloe swiftly on the tip of her nose and is flouncing toward the door with her book bag while Chloe is still scrunching up her face and swiping at her nose. 

“Have fun cutting class! Don’t jerk off in my bed!” Rachel calls cheerfully as she starts to open the door.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Chloe calls back.

Rachel laughs as she shuts the door behind her and makes her way down the hall.

* * *

Chloe sleeps until noon. It’s her aching bladder that finally gets her to haul herself out of bed rather than any actual desire to move. Her head still feels like someone filled it with cement overnight. Valentine’s Day parties. What sick fuck came up with that idea? Overly sweet punch and people grinding way too suggestively on the dancefloor. She’s pretty sure she witnessed an actual threesome going on in the midst of all that dancing last night. Those Vortex kids are _animals_. 

She catches a glimpse of her reflection in the bathroom mirror when she exits the stall and, yup, she looks exactly as horrible as she feels. She should probably do something about that, but why bother? If her head keeps pounding like this she’ll be dead by the end of the day anyway. Rachel’s the “live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse” type, but Chloe couldn’t care less about the state of her own corpse. Going out in a blaze of glory feels more her style. And then she won’t have to worry about necrophiliacs digging her up, so that’s a win.

The bathroom door opens while she’s still contemplating if her eyes qualify as “so bloodshot she might bleed out” or merely “hella bloodshot.” She tenses at the sound. Just her luck that someone else would be cutting classes today.

“Hmph. Kari Prince. Why am I not surprised?”

Chloe’s muscles reach disturbing new heights of rigidity. “‘Sup, Vicky.”

Victoria passes behind Chloe so that she’s forced to watch her obnoxious reflection in the mirror as she strikes an overly pensive pose and starts tapping at her chin with one manicured fingernail. “Oh, right,” she says as though the realization has suddenly come to her rather than being deliberately calculated. “I’m not surprised because _I could fucking hear you last night_.”

Somehow, Chloe’s face gets even paler. “Bite me, Victoria.”

“Not even if you paid me. Which you couldn’t, anyway.” Victoria whisks herself dramatically toward the shower stalls, then pauses for effect. “You know… You’re not the only one.”

The urge to vomit intensifies. “You act like I know what you’re talking about… Or even, y’know, care.”

“Oh, but you do know. And you definitely care. Otherwise, provoking you wouldn’t be any fun.”

Chloe tries not to think about Victoria when she crawls back into Rachel’s bed to try to sleep off the last of this hangover. Fucking Vortex kids. Fucking _Victoria_. Like she knows anything about anything.

...There’s no way Victoria actually heard anything last night, right? Her room’s, like, all the way down the hall from Rachel’s. And she really does her best to keep quiet, since it’s not like she’s supposed to be in the dorms at night. Victoria’s just being a total bitch, as usual. 

Right?

Chloe slips back and forth between unconsciousness and fretting. She gets up and digs the secret weed stash out of Rachel’s sock drawer, rolls herself a joint and smokes out the window. She eats a bunch of chocolate they swiped from the party last night, which sits uneasily on her empty stomach. She sleeps through most of a terrible action movie Rachel left in her DVD player. 

It’s a little after four when Rachel comes back from class, looking not at all surprised to see Chloe still lounging in her bed. “Hey, asshole,” she says casually as she shuts the door behind her.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking? I could’ve been bareassed nekkid in here.”

Rachel scoffs. “Haven’t you ever heard of, oh, I don’t know, not overstaying your welcome? Pretty sure I told you to leave before four. Actually, I’m certain of it.”

“Bullshit, I’m always welcome. I’m a fucking _delight_.” Chloe’s grinning cockily, but uncertainty swirls in her stomach like too much spiked punch.

“You’re going to be a delightful _third wheel_ in about twenty minutes,” Rachel scolds, wagging a finger at her. 

Something crumples softly in Chloe’s chest. “You really have a date tonight?”

“I told you I did!” Rachel puts her hands on her hips, clearly exasperated. “Did you think I was lying?”

“No, just… I was hoping you were joking, I guess.” Chloe scrunches up her face, shuffling up to rest on her elbows as Rachel huffs and starts digging through her closet. “When’d this even happen, anyway?”

Rachel flips a long lock of golden hair back over one shoulder. “He asked me at the party.” She pulls a translucent blouse out of her closet and studies it pensively. It’s raining lightly outside. If she wears that out, it’s going to be totally transparent in about thirty seconds. “I think you’d gone down to the basement with Justin by then.” She turns around and tsks dramatically. “Just think. If you hadn’t ditched me to get high with your skater buddy, maybe I wouldn’t have a date with someone else tonight!”

Chloe scowls - _Rachel_ accusing _her_ of ditching her at a Vortex Club party is pretty fucking rich - but doesn’t dignify her with an answer. Rachel puts on a wistful look and shakes her head at Chloe. “We could’ve spent the night together making fun of sappy Hallmark movies… Gorged ourselves sick on chocolates and wine… All _kinds_ of fun things.” She sighs with exaggerated longing that makes a mockery of the ragged, gaping hole her words are digging in Chloe’s chest. Then she shrugs and tosses her blouse over the back of her desk chair and grabs a bag of conversation hearts. “Instead, _I’m_ getting treated to a fancy dinner with a cute guy and _you’re_ stuck eating your heart out.” She reaches into the bag and throws a tiny blue heart at Chloe, pinging it expertly off her breastbone. 

“Ow!” Chloe claps a hand to her chest, playing up the pain of her injury so that maybe it’ll mask the real wounds. She smirks sarcastically and snatches up the heart to read it. She can just barely make out the words ‘TXT ME.’ Jeez. They’re not even trying anymore, honestly. “Hm,” she says, pretending to read the heart aloud, “‘Victoria Chase is a fugly binch.’ True, but how did they fit all that onto one tiny little candy heart?”

Rachel cackles. “You’re such a bitch!”

“You love it,” Chloe answers, tosses the heart back in Rachel’s direction.

“And you suck at throwing. No wonder you always get picked last in gym class. You’ve got noodle arms.” Rachel punctuates each sentence with another candy heart thrown in Chloe’s direction with deadly accuracy. 

Chloe swats them away ineffectually. They sting a bit, but they’re mostly just a mild annoyance. “Yeah, well, you weren’t complaining about my noodle arms last night.” Blood rushes to her face as her brain catches up with her mouth. Fuck. She starts mentally scrambling for a way to backpedal, but Rachel’s already launching herself onto the bed like a lioness on a wounded gazelle. 

“Oh, yeah? But can your noodle arms protect you now?!” Rachel smirks, tickling Chloe’s ribs viciously. Chloe yelps and flails. If she were stronger, she’d be able to actually push Rachel off of her. If she were _really_ strong, she’d kiss Rachel properly and not make any excuses about it. Instead, she scrabbles and struggles and bites until they fall apart breathless and laughing - they always laugh the hardest about the things that hurt the most - on the floor.

“You complete ass,” Rachel says, giving Chloe one last smack on the butt as she rises to her feet, “now my hair’s a mess.” She checks herself out in the mirror and clucks her tongue at the bitemark Chloe’s left on her neck like a trophy. “And I’m going to need to put on even more makeup.”

Rachel sets to the work of changing into dressy clothes - since when does she give a fuck about impressing random dudes, anyway? - and fixing her hair and makeup. Chloe lounges on Rachel’s floor and pretends to read conversation hearts to her. Anything to cover up the aching between her ribs. Anything to make Rachel laugh that beautiful laugh.

“‘Your mom has the clap.’ Huh, that one sounds familiar… ‘Your tits are a gift from god.’ Wow, that’s surprisingly accurate. ‘You have been cursed with seven years bad sex.’ Oh, no, that doesn’t bode well for your date tonight. ‘Dat ass doe.’” Every stupid joke brings a brilliant laugh, and Chloe wonders if life could ever stay like this. Just making Rachel laugh forever and basking in the warm glow of it.

Then Rachel gets a text from her “ _date_ ” and before Chloe knows what’s what Rachel’s blowing her a kiss and walking out the door and Chloe’s alone again.

* * *

Rachel’s a wizard with makeup. She can cover up anything, from the gnarliest scars to the most unsubtle of hickies. The only thing she can’t cover up is how it feels. And all through dinner with Evan, she can feel the imprint of Chloe’s teeth on the side of her neck. She knows that Evan can’t see it - between her expertly applied concealer and the curtain of her hair, it’s invisible - but she’s even more aware of it than she is of the flecks of spinach that have been caught between her date’s front teeth since his first bite of salad.

She should probably be pissed at Chloe for marking her up when she knew she had a date, but she can’t muster the anger. She prefers Chloe when she’s a bit wild, anyway.

“Are you even listening?”

Rachel doesn’t roll her eyes - that would be almost as rude as Evan’s question - but the smile she puts on is so fake she might as well have. “Of course! Sorry, I’ve just got this pain in my neck. It’s a little distracting.” She rubs her neck where Chloe bit her. Normally she would avoid the area to reduce the risk of rubbing the concealer off, but she suddenly doesn’t give a fuck.

Why did she even agree to go out with Evan, anyway? Sure, he’s one of the prettier guys at Blackwell and he’s a decent photographer, but he’s just as self-obsessed and boring as the guys in the Vortex Club. The only difference is that he goes on endlessly about hipster bullshit instead of his family’s money.

This date had seemed like a good idea when he asked. A good enough one, at least. She was drunk and Chloe had fucked off to get high without her and she was kind of pissed about it. And Evan was there. And he was cute and a nice enough guy and he _asked_.

Now that she’s actually been sitting here with him for, ugh, an _hour_ , it doesn’t seem like a good idea anymore. He won’t stop talking about some band she’s never heard of and doesn’t care about, he never lets her get a word in, he keeps glancing down at her tits and she just _knows_ he’s probably working up the nerve to try to cop a feel, and she would be having a much better time if she’d stayed home and binge-watched _Doctor Who_ with Chloe. 

“Actually, I think I should go home and put some ice on it,” she says abruptly, cutting her date off in the middle of a sentence about why vinyl is superior to mp3s or something equally riveting.

“You-- what? I haven’t even finished eating yet.”

Rachel’s barely touched her own food, but that’s beside the point. “It’s a _really_ bad pain in the neck,” she emphasizes. “I can’t take it anymore. But you go ahead and finish your dinner! I can take the bus back to the dorms.” She gets up and whirls her coat like it’s a cape before slinging it over her blouse.

God, why did she dress up for this? Why did she wear _heels_? Who is she trying to impress right now? Evan liked her plenty when she was shitfaced and wearing half a cup of punch on her sneakers, so why did she put any effort into this at all?

He manages to catch up to her before she reaches the bus stop, which goes to his credit. He’s had her food doggybagged as well as his own, which is another point in his favor. It did smell really good. It’d probably be perfect after smoking a bowl with Chloe. She takes her doggybag with good grace and lets him drive her home.

He talks the whole way back to campus. She tunes it out, nodding at what seem like appropriate moments and enjoying the banjos coming through his stereo. She lets him walk her as far as the door to the building but not to her room. She lets him kiss her on the cheek. His cologne smells like what chemists think old books smell like. He either loses his nerve or is just polite enough not to try to cop a feel.

The room is dark when she opens her door. Of course. A wave of disappointment washes over her. She sets down her leftovers on her desk, her appetite gone again. She kicks off her heels and flops down on her bed. Something tiny but sharp jabs her in the chest and she rolls over to find the offending object and consign it to ashes. 

It’s a heart, small and blue. It’s inscribed with the words “BE MINE.”

Rachel laughs sincerely for the first time since she left for her date. She grabs her leftovers and the bag of hearts from her desk, pulls on a pair of combat boots, and runs back downstairs.

“Evan, wait!” she calls. Fortunately, he’s still sitting in his car, messing around with his phone. He’s surprised to see her, but his pleasure at her reappearance dims when she asks him for a lift to Cedar Ave. “You’re a sweetheart,” she tells him when he drops her off, gracing him with a swift kiss on his cheek. “I owe you one.”

“Maybe we can go out again? You know, when your neck is feeling better?”

“Maybe,” she says, because it seldom pays to close a door completely. He’s still grinning when she waves him goodbye and runs across the street toward Chloe’s house. The light is on in Chloe’s room, but the window is mostly closed.

Rachel’s aim has improved since she and Chloe first started hanging out. It only takes her a couple of tries before she’s able to successfully ping a candy heart off Chloe’s window. She follows it with another and another. The fourth is on target but nearly catches Chloe in the face instead as she throws the window open with an annoyed look on her face. “What the hell are you doing?” she hisses.

“But soft! what light through yonder window breaks?” Rachel declaims, throwing her arms wide. “It is the east, and Chloe is the sun!”

“You’re gonna break _something_ if you keep throwing shit at my window,” Chloe grumbles, but Rachel can tell by the faint pink darkening her cheeks that she’s happy to see her. “C’mon, get your bony ass up here before you piss off Sergeant Mustache.”

“My ass is _not_ bony,” Rachel protests as she begins her ascent.

“Oh yeah?” Chloe drapes a lazy arm over the windowsill and smiles smugly down at Rachel. “Prove it.”

Rachel clambers up over the roof of the garage and presses a kiss to Chloe’s lips, surprising a small noise out of her. “Let me in and I just might.” Chloe shuffles back from the window to give her space to enter with almost cartoonish speed. “I brought you a peace offering,” Rachel adds as she hauls herself through the open window and into Chloe’s bedroom. “Food that _isn’t_ from the Two Whales.” She holds out the bag of leftovers and Chloe snatches it greedily, opening it up and taking a deep inhale. 

“Damn, that smells _good_. I was gonna give you shit about it not being fancy weed, but this’ll do.” She lowers the bag and gives Rachel a cocky look that belies the fragility just under its surface. “So, your date must’ve sucked pretty hard, huh?”

“We didn’t get that far,” Rachel teases. She climbs onto Chloe’s bed without bothering to shed her dirty boots or damp jacket first. “So. Hallmark movies?”

Chloe pretends to be put out by Rachel’s suggestion, but she hauls her laptop onto the bed and leaves it in Rachel’s command as she sets to work on unpacking the boxes of leftovers. The bag of conversation hearts tips over, spilling chalky candy hearts between them on the unmade bed.

“You’re going to get crumbs in your bed,” Rachel scolds as she scrolls through movie options to find something suitably mind-numbing. “ _Very_ unromantic.”

“ _You’re_ very unromantic,” Chloe rebuts.

Rachel gasps. “Ex-fucking-cuse me!? I am the _most_ romantic!” She scoops up a candy heart and pretends to read from it. “‘Rachel Amber is the most romantic.’ See? Even the candy says so.”

Chloe picks up a heart of her own. “Hm, I dunno, Rach. This one begs to differ. ‘Rachel Amber is a--’” She claps a hand over her mouth and makes a scandalized face. “Oh, I can’t even read that one aloud. I didn’t think they were allowed to put language that foul on these things!”

“Lies! Blasphemy!” Rachel picks up another. “‘Chloe Price is a massive pain in Rachel Amber’s ass.’ See, now, this one is totally accurate. Maybe you’re reading them wrong.”

“‘Maybe you’re just an asshole.’ Nope, that one seems accurate, too.”

“Of course; it’s talking about _you_! Look, this one agrees: ‘Chloe Price is, in fact, an asshole!’”

“‘Rachel Amber is a… CUNSN?’ I think that one’s a typo. Point stands, though.”

“Yeah, well, ‘Chloe Price hogs the covers.’”

“‘Rachel Amber farts in her sleep.’”

“I do _not_!”

“Oh, you absolutely d- _mmph_!” Chloe responds to the pillow to her face with lightning reflexes. By the time their impromptu pillow fight evolves into making out, the conversation hearts are forgotten and the boxes of leftovers have fallen off the bed completely. 

They make a good midnight snack, if a bit cold and congealed, when they finally get around to eating them. It's perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> A belated Happy Valentine's Day to all! Look, I wrote some amberprice where Rachel isn't a ghost!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated as always :)


End file.
